


All is Fair

by ZenlessZen



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 15:29:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15776904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZenlessZen/pseuds/ZenlessZen
Summary: Criminals in the end, are met with Justice





	All is Fair

Akira wasn't quite sure what this was. All he knew of any of the other Phantom Thieves found out, he was screwed. He leaned back against the brick wall. The alleyway was dingy, smelling of trash and piss and cigar smoke. It was a hazy day. The sun was low, the fog was high. He adjusted his red leather gloves, reminiscing about the first time it had happened. It was in an alleyway just like this. He had his gun drawn. He could have shot him. He could have shot the bastard right there, but something stopped him. He called it love. He knew better.

 

It was lust. The only reason the bastard was alive was lust. But time went on, meetings in secluded parts, and Akira had grown to desire the feel of his hair beneath his fingers. He had developed an aching need to feel his lips. He had also grown to notice his little quirks. The way he straightened out his cuffs when he was anxious. The way he brightened up at the mention of coffee or his detective work. The way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Yes, Akira wasn't sure what it was when they started, but now he was keenly aware of the pining in his chest. He wanted more than just 'enemies with benefits’. He just wasn't sure Akechi wanted the same. 

 

“Have you been waiting long?” Akechi stepped into view. He was wearing his usual sweater vest, his hair framing his face perfectly. 

 

“No.” Akira said simply. The detective stepped closer. Akira could feel his breath on his face. It smelled like coffee. 

 

That was all the conversation needed. Their lips met in a frenzy of kisses. Akira reached around the other boy to remove his glove, running his bare hand through Akechi’s soft hair. This was heaven. This was hell. He wanted to do this for so long. It was like a drug that refused to let him go. 

 

He wasn't sure when he had realized it. Maybe it was too late. Or maybe he could have done something, but simply didn't have the will to do so. Cold metal pressed against his ribs. Akechi's tongue slipped into his mouth. It tasted like coffee. The gunshot was muffled. Everything reeled as white hot pain shot through his body. The scent of smoke and trash and piss rose up again. He looked blearily up through tears. He had somehow ended up on the floor of the alleyway, his head near the splatter of blood on the wall. His bare hand was pressed against the wound, blood coating it like a new red glove. He could see Akechi slipping the gun inside his jacket. And he was smiling. The sunlight filtering through the smoke seemed to gather around him, like a halo. And he looked so goddamn beautiful. 

 

“That's not fair.” And it wasn't. He'd just been shot, but the only thing he could think about is how he'd never see that smile again. That he'd never get to feel those lips on his. Or hear his laughter. It wasn't fair.

 

The detective knelt down before Akira, fingers curling under his chin and holding him at eye level. He chuckled.What a nice sound to hear before he died. It was like a gift. He'd miss that laugh. He heard familiar shouts in the distance. His friends. His fellow thieves. All that was drowned out by Akechi's next words.

 

_ “My sweet thief, all is fair in love and war.” _

 

Akechi returned to Leblanc the day after his victory against the notorious Phantom Thief, Joker. He couldn't wait to tell Akira what he had done. How successful he was. He was sure that Akira would smile at him like he always did, his eyes lighting up behind his glasses. Akechi often imagined what it would be like, to run his hands through Akira's tousled curls. To feel those lips on his. A vague memory surfaced in his mind, nights of encounters with another boy with curly black hair. It seems he had a type. But Joker was a criminal. Criminals, in the end, were met with justice. And so Akechi convinced himself, despite how wrong it felt, that once he got Akira's approval it would be okay.

 

Leblanc was locked. The shutters were pulled down, providing no clue to what was happening inside. A group of teenagers, who Akechi recognized as Akira's friends, were standing outside clamoring. Although that quickly stopped when they spotted him.

 

“You.” Akechi didn't think a single word could drip with so much venom. The girl glared at him, burning hatred in her sea green eyes.

 

“Takamaki-san. What's going on here?” He peered around her to the other faces, scanning them for the one person he wanted to see. Disappointment shot through him. Akira was not here.”Where's Kurusu-kun?”

 

There was silence. The tension rose and Akechi felt like hiding behind his briefcase. He didn't know the reason for such hatred. Today was supposed to be a happy day. Finally a voice cut through the tense air, low and practically humming with anger. “You have some nerve coming here and asking where he is.” It was the artist. Yusuke. 

 

Yusuke must have said something else but it was lost the moment the air left Akechi’s lungs. He could faintly hear someone calling him a bastard as he fell back, colliding with the concrete below. He stared blearily at the group of friends holding Ryuji back. He punched strong, Akechi noted. But he still wasn't sure why he was hated so much. He slowly pulled himself to seated and stared up at them. The last time he had felt so small was when Joker had him at gunpoint. The night that had lead to many more nights of just the two of them. The night Joker had let him go. 

 

“Let's go. We have nothing to do with his murderer.” The words felt like a bullet. He barely registered who said it. Murderer. But the only one he had murdered was… Joker. Suddenly it all made sense. Those curls like his. Those lips somewhat soft. How he tasted of coffee. Leblanc coffee. His eyes. Gray, determined and so much like  _ his. _ It all made too much sense. He didn't even notice the group leaving. 

 

Everyone was laughing at him. Everyone on the street were gathered around him, faceless people with smug grins looking down on him and laughing. He didn't mean to. He didn't know. He was a criminal. Criminals in the end, were met with justice. That's what this was. Justice.

 

“This isn't fair!” He cried out. The pedestrians nearby shot him a disgruntled glare. The wind slithered by, rustling the sparce trees. They seemed to murmur mockingly at him. 

 

_ All is fair in love and war. _

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back bitches


End file.
